Deep in the belly of London’s Underground, passengers rush to get on their trains. Just before the doors close, there is a often a flurry of people jumping in or out of carriages.
A family of four sat across from me. A mother, father, and two boys between the ages of nine and twelve. As we sat at Warren Street Station, the father realised that it was their stop.
He jumped up from his seat, and his family followed suit. They dashed for the door, but only the father and the eldest son got out. The doors closed leaving the mother and the youngest in the train.
Through the door’s windows I first saw the wide grin on the face of the eldest boy. Followed by the chuckling of the father. I could hear the laughter of the two stuck in the train. Between the glass they made hand gestures signalling they’d meet at the next station. And as the mother and youngest sat down, they were smiling and giggling.
There was not one hint of annoyance, frustration, or anger on any of their faces.
This moment, perhaps 30 seconds in total, told me so much about this family. It’s easy to imagine them supporting each other after a tough day, having patience with one another, and smiling regardless of the weather; literal or figurative.